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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27150764">Laundry Day</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/artemis_in_space/pseuds/artemis_in_space'>artemis_in_space</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sherlock (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Finally, Fluff, I started this in NOVEMBER OF 2019, baby was sad when she started this, depressed!reader, its done!!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 22:34:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,020</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27150764</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/artemis_in_space/pseuds/artemis_in_space</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A Sherlock Holmes BBC fic in this the year 2020? It's more likely then you think.</p><p>Sherlock's love language is acts of service don't fight me on this.</p><p>(I also absolutely did not edit this several times to make it have 2020 words for year published irony. Nope. Not at all.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sherlock Holmes &amp; Reader, Sherlock Holmes/You</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>109</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Laundry Day</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Sherlock Holmes stopped on his way out of 221B Baker Street, to the complete silence of the upstairs apartment. You'd moved in there when John moved out with Mary, during the time that Sherlock was 'dead' and Sherlock's apartment was locked up, just in case he came back. The room above, Johns old space, was open for rent, with all the utilities' downstairs in Mrs Hudson's apartment. You only met when he came back, and he disliked you almost instantly, seeing you as an unwelcome replacement for his best friend. Unfortunately, John and Mary had become quite close to you in his absence. You dusted the empty apartment and helped Mrs Hudson out on occasion in exchange for slightly cheaper rent and the two liked having you around. Your naturally friendly and helpful demeanour helped them some during the time.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Today, however, was not at all like that. In the year since Sherlock had come back, you'd grown to be friends, after he realised you weren't after his spot as Johns best friend, and, of course, being Sherlock, he'd made some observations.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It had been nearly four days since you'd left the building for anything other than work, nearly a whole 48 hours since he'd seen you out of your apartment, and about 15 hours since he heard you move from your bed to the mini-fridge you kept in your space and back again. Something was very wrong.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">This wasn't the first time it'd happened, but it did usually happen in shorter bursts, at most two days, and you always made it down to see him and bug him about what he was up too or to ask if he'd like a cup of tea.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Sherlock checked his watch, he had a bit of time to spare. In the next few seconds, he was outside your door. He went to knock but noticed the door had been left slightly ajar. Suddenly worried for your safety he pushed the door open and walked inside calling your name as he did.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Are you here?" He heard shuffling from directly behind the room dividers hiding your 'bedroom' from the rest of the living space, a small, simple kitchen and lounge set-up taking up the rest of the space. Other than that, the only sound was from the tv. You'd moved the thing into the bedroom half, and it was softly playing a frankly awful crime show. Sherlock would have turned his nose up at it if he wasn't more concerned with the lack of response coming from you.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He walked over, taking a second to knock on one of the dividers momentarily just in case you were indecent, before standing at the foot of your king single.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You looked a wreck. There were bags under your eyes <em>(lack of sleep? Too much sleep?)</em> and they looked red and sore <em>(sick, no. Crying perhaps?)</em> several tissues lay on the bedside table, your computer tucked halfway under the bed, phone upside-down on the table and snack packets and water bottles put halfway to neatly next to you on the floor. Your cat was curled at the foot of your bed but meowed indignantly when he stepped around and got up to move to the couch.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"What's wrong?" He never was one for greetings, but his soft tone caught you off guard. In all the time you'd known him, he'd never sounded so gentle. You tried to muster a smile, sit or stand up, but it was like you were glued to the bed or your bones were made of lead, and so, you settled for a simple shrug and went back to watching the crime drama. You'd already seen this episode, but watching it reminded you of some of your friends. Greg, because of all the detective work, and Sherlock, because of how he loved to rip the shows apart... and also the cocky way the protagonists dismantled the case once the killer was caught.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Though Sherlock was here now, standing at the foot of your bed looking soft and concerned and it killed you. You hated making people feel bad about this. This stupid, pointless illness infecting your brain and body. You'd tried all the usual things that distracted you from it, but food, work and company seemed to elude you at the moment. So far, you'd survived on the snacks and leftovers you had in the fridge, along with the jug you kept in there because you were too lazy to go all the way to the first floor every time you wanted water. Besides the one trip to the corner store and Mrs Hudson bringing you a cup of tea before she retired the previous night, you'd had next to no human contact in around 48 hours.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And now here's Sherlock.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You could feel him analysing every detail about you, every inch of your environment, looking for things that had changed since he last saw you. You only hoped he didn't spell it out, you knew you looked helpless and disgusting and messy and broken and-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Would you like a cup of tea?"</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Well, that wasn't what you expected. Slightly stunned, you looked at him, properly now, and nodded gently. He gave a curt nod back and moved behind your dividers towards the short cabinet holding your kitchen things that didn't fit in the downstairs area. Your electric kettle sat on top of it, along with your microwave. From your place in bed, you could hear the sound of the kettle being filled with the water from your fridge, a mug being pulled from the cupboard and put down, and one of your many tea jars being opened and readied. Within minutes, Sherlock was making his way back to you, mug in one hand, biscuits in the other.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You quickly shuffled up to a more suitable position and took the mug when offered. He placed the cookies on the bedside table, cleaning off some of the food wrappers and cup as he did.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"It's the one called 'healing heart', I added a bit of honey as well. I'll be back in a moment." He walked out of your room, the door closing softly behind him. True to his word, he returned only moments later, a now full water jug and empty laundry basket in each his hand. The jug he quickly put back in the fridge and then he started... wait.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Are- are you picking up my laundry?"</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Yes, the place is a mess, Mrs Hudson would be devastated to see it, it simply will not do, so I shall have to tidy up a bit." He glanced at you to make sure you noticed the teasing tone. However, he paused when he saw your cheeks alight, eyes wide.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"No! No, it's fine I'll do it tomorrow."</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"No."</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Please, really it's fine. I barely wear half of those."</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"And your underwear?"</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Your face was on fire. Sherlock had bent over at the foot of your bed to pick up a shirt but had come up holding three pairs of underwear and a bra. He cocked a brow at you before throwing them in with the rest of the clothes. You regained some movement to your body, pushing up the cover and putting your tea down as you crawled towards him, reaching towards the laundry basket. He pulled it back before you could reach it.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Lay down."</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"But-"</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"It's fine, you can lay down."</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"But aren't you-"</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"(Y/n)" His blue-green eyes silenced you. They were still soft but full of that 'I demand you do this right now' tone that he was so good at conveying. You'd managed to grab onto the side of the basket in the short argument, and he was now gently prying you off it again. "It's alright. They're simply clothes, they cling to you like any other item of clothing, are made of the same cloth, and require the same washing direction. Now lay down. You're obviously not feeling up to the day. I'm not sure what's upset you, but if it's hindering you this much, then I'd like to help you get out of it as fast as I can. No one's offered me a tea or fallen asleep on my couch for five days now and it's not right. So, I request you get better this instant or lie down so you can start to feel better. Or at the very least, trail after me while I do your chores."</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You were a little stunned. You always thought he was upset when you lay down while listening to his rants and fell asleep to the sound of his voice. Did it not annoy him when you walked into his home and took over the kitchen for a bit? Perhaps he wasn't glaring, after all, all those times you saw his eyes whip away from you.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You sat there, watching the man tidy your clothes and put jumpers back into their places, then pick up all the random packets of food, making quick work of wrapping the ones half full and throwing the empty ones in the bin. At one point he looked up, told you to drink your tea and then got right back to it. You were halfway through the cup by the time you heard him open the door and head down to, what you assumed, would be the washing machine, so you got up and followed him.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He had paused at the stair when he heard you get up and only started walking again when you had walked through the doorway, mug still in hand and the packet of biscuits hanging out of your jumper pocket. He almost smiled. The two of you made your way down the stairs in silence, only the occasional creak of wood breaking the quiet. When you made it to the laundry room, Sherlock put the basket on the bench and began pouring the laundry in and your eyes went wide.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wait!” He stopped while you put down your mug and began rummaging through the cupboards for a ‘delicates’ bag. Finding it, you gently nudged him aside and went through the laundry already in the machine, then the basket, for your bras, shoving them haphazardly into the bag then throwing it in the machine. Sherlock looked at you.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What was that?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What was what?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That bag. Why did you put them in there?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“If you don’t, the hooks can get caught on other clothes and ruin them.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hm.” He looked thoughtful for a second and then went back to what he was doing, but he seemed a bit more careful now. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">With the laundry turned on all, there was to do now was wait. Sherlock went to walk towards the stairs but stopped just as he grabbed the handrail and turned to look at you.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What have you eaten today?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The answer obviously did not satisfy him, as he was ushering you towards the door, wrapping you up in a coat and now the two of you were making your way down the road towards the sandwich shop on the corner. Sherlock never had liked the one next door, reasons unknown to you, but now that you were moving again, you noticed the hunger that had sat at the back of your mind for the last few hours, pushed down each time it made itself known with snacks of all sorts.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The cold air seemed to have shaken you a bit, as you found yourself feeling more ‘you’ then you had for the past few days. The change did not go unnoticed by the consulting detective, and he smiled to himself as he saw the slight pep in your step and the soft smile as you crunched a leaf under your boot, muttering to yourself about what you'd like for lunch.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Yes,</em> he decided, <em>This was much better.</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And if he ignored the spark he felt as your fingers brushed his while giving you a pocket cookie for one more day, that would be fine. He didn't even notice he was supposed to meet Lestrade hours ago.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I wasn't gonna put the last line in cause it felt unnecessary but I wanted everyone to know that the biscuits were still there and they absolutely ate them out of her pocket on the way cause we have seen that man's kitchen, and no one cares less about food sanity than a depressed person and Sherlock Holmes BBC edition.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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